The honeymooners
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: Post series, post Red John . "For a second, Rigsby wanted to ask him if it had been all worth it, but there was no need to, the answer was right before him, in Teresa's happiness and her radiant smile, and in Patrick's quiet peace." Rigsby/Van Pelt, Jane/Lisbon oneshot


**Title**: The honeymooners

**Author**: Little Firestar84

**Fandom**: The Mentalist

**Characters/pairings: **Wayne Rigsby/Grace Van Pelt; Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon

**Status**: complete

**Rating**: K

**Word count: **~1950

**Summary**: Post series, post Red John . "For a second, Rigsby wanted to ask him if it had been all worth it, but there was no need to, the answer was right before him, in Teresa's happiness and her radiant smile, and in Patrick's quiet peace. "

**A/N: **I hate my tablet word processor. Proper names are mistakes according to this thing (but it allows the names London, Paris and Venice, but not Lisbon or Sacramento. Bah.), like Americanism and verbs in the past tense as well-don't ask me why, but apparently, "convinced" isn't a verb... So, if there is any mistake every here and then, or the word counts doesn't adds up... it's because this is the word processor from Hell.

**Also**: who ever took in consideration that I could write a Grace/Wayne fic, me, haters of all things Grisby, the girl who doesn't like Grace, that in her fic often transfers her, of makes her marry father figures who drove her to a nervous breakdown? I know. It's so weird... but it somehow fitted. And I'm in a god mood, so I wanted to give her an happy ending of some kind too...

"I still don't understand why you wanted to come here so badly for our honeymoon..." Wayne looked around confused as he carried their cases around the village on the Greek island, trying to understand why his new wife kept looking around with tears in her eyes, as she was searching for something in particular, like she knew it was there in the first place.

He wondered if there was something she hadn't told him, for some unknown reason. Greece hadn't been where they were supposed to spend their three weeks, after all, even if they had decided for a short trip in Europe: London, Madrid, Paris and Venice were the four cities they had agreed on, but then one day Grace had come to him while he was already half asleep, and had convinced her soon to be husband to something completely different, talking between tears and kisses, unable to explain herself furthermore.

Hence, three weeks in Zante. And he still didn't know why he was there to begin with. It wasn't like he didn't like Europe, or Greece, but he just didn't see the appeal. Maybe it was because he thought that there wasn't more to the country than its history and culture, and he wasn't that intellectual. He had just married to the woman of his dreams, and all he wanted was to show her around and make love to her until she didn't become the mother of his children, and museums weren't places where he could do either of those activities. And he knew that Grace had, more or less, the same idea about those few weeks in particular, but if they weren't planning to leave their room anytime soon, why bother leaving Sacramento, then?

He didn't know. And Grace wasn't answering, she just kept crying, keeping like for dear life a letter she had received few weeks before, and that she had refused to show him, telling him to trust her, that everything would be clear in due time.

And what he was supposed to do? Of course he trusted he, had done so with both his life, on the job, and his heart, loving her, letting her go when she wasn't ready for them, when she said another man made her happy, and then taking her back when she finally accepted that they were more than simply friends or coworkers.

So, yes, he had trusted her with this one too. Even if he still couldn't understand what it was all about. It wasn't a past lover, or she would have never married him if she had been through some issues, had any doubts. And it wasn't about her family, or she would have talked with him about that too.

Then, maybe, could it be that it was about...

But he shook his head, dismissing the thought. There was no way it could be about them, not after so long, so many years.

But maybe...

"Hello strangers, can I help you?" As soon as he heard the man's voice, he turned, and Grace did too. But Wayne Rigsby remained glued on the spot, while, instead, his wife run in the arms of the man who had just talked with them with an amused voice, a man who looked younger than his years, lines on his face from smiles instead of sorrow and lack of sleep. He was a little older, but he had never looked so young, happy and carefree as in that moment.

And as she held him like for dear life, Grace Rigsby wetted with her tears Patrick Jane's shirt.

"You know Wayne, you can look at me. I promise, I will not eat you." As his former boss talked, ending the sentence with a giggle, Rigsby lifted his eyes and looked at her, but just for a fraction of second, and then he looked again at his hands on the table, at the tea cup still full in front of him.

It was so strange. As much as a part of him had briefly considered that Grace had somehow found them, that this was the reason she had asked to go there, it still felt somehow unreal. Not even once he had believed that the unidentifiable human remains found in what was left of Jane's car could belong to them, but still...

Five years was a long time. Everything was different. Heck, they were different. And as much as he had always thought about them, even if just in a small corner of his mind and soul... he still couldn't believe it. Or maybe, he didn't want to. After all, who had suffered because of their deaths? Who had lived with the lingered doubt that they could still be alive, somewhere?

He was relieved and happy, but he felt a little... betrayed. By Jane, Lisbon and even Grace. Why hadn't she told him about this? He would have kept it a secret, she could have trusted him, and yet...

What a way to start a marriage.

"Wayne, don't be mad with her. She didn't tell you anything because Grace wasn't sure it was us. The letter wasn't hand-written, there was no signature...but she trusted her gut, and here you are."

"Yep. Here we are..." Wayne did his best to smile, but it come out as forced and nervous. He looked around, arms crossed. The whole thing was unsetting. And even after so many years, it was still creepy the way Jane could "read" his mind.

Besides, he was mad with them. How did they dare, to reach out after five freaking years? Did they understand how badly they had suffered because of their actions? After founding Jane's car in flames, two dead bodies inside, they had been destroyed. Every one of them had hoped, and thought, that it couldn't be them, but the fact that remains seem to belong to a man and a woman physically similar to Jane and Lisbon, and that they had been missing ever since...

They had cried and mourned the loss of their friends for months, and even after five years, every now and then their thoughts went to them. And now... now, here they were, alive and well and bloody happy.

Damn Patrick Jane. Damn him. It was all his fault. It had to be.

"It is. But it's not as you think." Jane answered his silent answer, as Rigsby barely resisted the urge to hit as strongly as possible the table with his closed fist. "Teresa was pregnant with my child."

Both the cop and his wife gasped. Of course, this explained part of what had happened, and why they had escaped and been hidden ever since, but what about the rest? Why faking their own deaths, and whom did the body belong to? It still didn't make any sense. Unless...

Jane and Lisbon had been presumed death in the fire that engulfed his car five years before. And Red John hadn't been spotted in as many years. At first, they had assumed that he had decided to ply with them no more because Jane had died, but maybe...

"It wasn't like you did with me, right? When you faked my death. You didn't steal a body from the morgue. The guy in your car..."

For a long while, Jane didn't answer, he simply looked in the void that was his half empty cup of tea, then, as Teresa took his hand in her won, he smiled at his wife, and confessed his sins to his guests.

"Teresa didn't do anything, she just wanted to protect me." he started, his eyes, full of love, focused on her. "We tried to keep a secret that we were seeing each other, but after Teresa discovered she was pregnant, Lorelai contacted me saying that he knew about us, and the baby. She set up a meeting to discuss everything, but her boss showed up as well. She was honestly shocked, but because he was there, not because he had understood she was working against him. He even confessed that he had been the one to kill her sister, to get to Lorelai, and as soon as she heard him saying the truth...before I could realize what had happened, they had stabbed each other to death. That was when I decided to fake our own deaths."

"Yeah, well, you've been an idiot. He was dead. You could have been living your life by now. We could have all been happy."

As he saw his friend's reaction, Jane was tempted to smile. He had always been amused by Rigsby's violent side, this Neanderthal part of him that he did his best to keep in check, wearing the mask of the buffoon to not look like his late father. It was strange how, deep down, they were alike. Both resembling their fathers, both didn't want to and did their best to hide such a truth.

"He was dead, but his network still worked. His friends would have believed that we had had a saying in his death, and they would have come after our friends, our families, and then Teresa and the baby, and I couldn't allow that." he paused, and met for the first time Wayne's chocolate eyes. "Wouldn't have you done the same for Ben?"

It was low, but he needed for his friends to understand, and he knew that putting his first born in the picture was the only way to do so.

"So, Greece..." Wayne said. Grace and Teresa weren't talking, feeling like their men needed to get it out on their own.

"Nah, we come her just in the Summer. The place belongs to an old friend."

"Fellow conman or someone who has been that stupid to play poker with you and lost too much?"

"Con man is such a bad word... I prefer to define him an artist." Jane grinned like the cat got the canary, as Lisbon elbowed him in the side, relived that the air was already returning back to normal. It was still a long way before things could be back to what they used to be, but it was a start. Or maybe, the best they could do, given the circumstances. "We live outside of London. Believe it or not, I am a consultant for New Scotland Yard when I'm not Teresa Smith's lovely husband."

"They took you in? Just like that?" Grace asked, genuinely surprised.

"Meh. Papers seemed good, he fact that I was Patrick and not John seemed to make it all truer, and it looks like my own Lestrade prefers to get things done rather than getting an headache over who I may really be."

As they sat in silence, looking at the beautiful landscape, they heard the sudden noise of broken glass coming from the house, followed by the sudden apparition of a very big dog, probably a shepherd, and a baby girl, long dark curls, dressed with a white summer dress, barefoot, giggling and full of life, mischievous.

"Kathrin Anne Smith!" Teresa shouted, but with a smile, and laughter in her voice, as she jumped on her feet and walked toward the baby, taking her in her strong arms, nuzzling her daughter's hair.

For a second, Rigsby wondered if he was supposed to ask him if it had been all worth it, but there was no need to, the answer was right before him, in Teresa's happiness and radiant smile, and in Patrick's quiet peace. They weren't ok yet, and maybe they would never be, but he now knew how much this had costed to all of them, even the man behind this huge machination.

And for this reason alone, he remembered why they were friends.


End file.
